


Insomnia

by Scavenge4Dreams



Series: Insomniac Dreaming [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adorable, Bathing/Washing, Caretaking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hot, Insomnia, Kissing, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, No Sex, POV: Steve Rogers, Protective Steve, Schmoop, Sleep Deprivation, Sweet, Tony Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 17:07:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scavenge4Dreams/pseuds/Scavenge4Dreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Its 3am.  Do you know where your Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist is?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insomnia

_Thursday 9 th – 2:46am_

 

Muddy water splashed up and across the slate-grey footpath as the taxi pulled to the curb, disturbing one of the many stagnant puddles that dotted the asphalt.   The driver turned his gaze to the backseat, illuminated by the glow of the night lights of the city, taking in the slumped posture of his weary customer, he wondered if the man was asleep.

 

Cautiously he spoke, pitching his voice low, “Sir, We’re here.”

 

The blond man looked enquiringly up from his clasped hands, fatigue visible in his steady gaze, clearing a little when the well lit monument out his window registered and he shook his head abruptly to clear the cobwebs before replying, “Oh. Right. Thank you Dave.  Uh, how much?”

 

Dave grinned and waved away the offered cash as he answered, “For you Sir? On the house.” He ignored the expected protests and readily accepted the pleasantly mortified gratitude.

 

He drove off a moment later, watching in the rear view mirror as Captain America slung his duffel over one broad shoulder and disappeared into the shadows at the base of the radiant Stark (Avengers) tower.

 

***

Hitching his duffel further to his left Steve dug his wallet from his pocket, flipped it open and slid the easily located red and gold card from its sleeve. He swiped his personal ‘Stark Tower’ access card, one of only eight of its kind, and replaced both card and wallet as he waited for the afterhour’s security to scan and access his personal data before the glass and steel reinforced doors slid apart swiftly. He moved into the dimly lit lobby, sighing with relief.

 

As the doors snicked closed behind him he stomped his feet against the entrance mat, dislodging the worst of the grit and grime before heading towards the elevators, bypassing the three massive ‘Stark Industries’ elevators in favour of the smaller Chrome elevator to the far  left.  

 

No buttons or lights heralded the arrival of the elevator, the technology so far beyond that it was a laughable comparison. The doors swept open and Steve shuffled in, dropping his bag at his feet as he leaned tiredly against the shiny black wall to toe of his boots, content for now to leave them neatly against the wall.

 

It wasn’t like anyone else was in the tower to be bothered by them, what with Thor in Asgard, Tasha and Clint on Shield Assignment and Bruce still in Colorado after their three day ‘Thank you party’ in which the Avengers had received the Key to the City among other such trivia.    Bruce had actually volunteered to go, trying to garner some good PR for the Hulk – now a hero rather than a monster, and Steve had volunteered because he’s...well, _Captain America._

Tony had downright, adamantly refused to go, stating that he had enough followers and fame and that he’d rather stay and play with his toys.  The others joked about what he could possibly be working on that _Tony Stark_ would brush of a chance to publicly preen, but privately knew that _Tony Stark_  was just a mask for _Tony._

Bruce would be home Thursday afternoon/evening and Natasha and Clint sometime Sunday. Thor was unpredictable, but usually he would be back within a week, so up to another 3 days.

 

The three days away had been as long, tedious and boring as Steve had feared, and rather than stay the last free night in their immaculate but dreary hotel, Steve had decided to return to New York, home and _Tony._

It was nearing 3am, and all he wanted was to kiss his boyfriend and go to sleep, but first he had to find said boyfriend, because Steve was almost sure he wouldn’t be in bed, despite the hour. It had been the only thing he had worried about; leaving Tony alone, but he had eventually figured (and been reassured by Tony) that Tony was a grown man, had lived alone for many years before they had taken over his tower and would be just fine.

Besides, Tony wasn’t alone, he had JARVIS.

 

The assurance didn’t stop the niggle of loving worry that ate at him and he placed a hand on the wall, palm flat against the glass and as expected the elevator alit with a self imbued light source as it recognised his bio-signature and his right to access the Stark Tower personal levels.

 

The elevator hummed to life and Steve took a deep, steadying breath and spoke, “JARVIS?”

 

The disembodied voice answered his unspoken question with as much relief as an artificial life form could, “Mr Stark is currently...working, he has slept a total of 56.7 minutes of the past 67 hours, although in no longer increments than 7.4 minutes.  Sir has consumed negative 478% adequate nutrition, his last meal being two bites of an apple approximately 28 hours ago. He has also consumed approximately 14 litres of coffee, although is decidedly sober....”

 

Steve caught his breath between his teeth and all but sighed, “ _Tony..._ ”

 

The elevator shifted minutely beneath his socked feet as it smoothly began to descend, JARVIS adding, “Welcome home Captain Rogers.”, somehow sounding the electronic inflection of both mockingly sarcastic and eternally grateful.

 

***

 

The elevator opened at subbasement level 9 and Steve exited, content to leave his leather bag and shoes where they rested as he went to wrangle his...well, _his Tony._

Still unable to help instinctively looking up, and speaking to the ceiling, which Tony never failed to snigger at, Steve asked, “His main Workshop?”

 

JARVIS’s replied, “Negative. I locked down all workshops at hour 56, after Sir attempted to set himself aflame with the welder.... ” Steve gasped as concern swept through him, but calmed as JARVIS continued, “Rest assured Captain, I cut the power before Sir had chance to do more than severely singe his clothing, and then proceeded to relocate him to the relative safety of the schematics studio, where he has remained since...”

 

Steve change directions, continuing left at the fork instead of right, his suddenly frantic heartbeat calming slowly, but adrenalin waking him more successfully than the frigid cold of his usual morning run. “You managed to _relocate Tony. How_?” 

 

It was not Steve’s imagination that JARVIS sounded particularly smug as he answered, “I simply refused to supply power to Sir’s workshop equipment, his obstinate sulking only held out for 2 hours and 12 minutes...”

 

Steve loosed a soft chuckle at such _Tony_ behaviour, curiously enquiring, “Why didn’t he just... - I mean, Tony can bypass your interference, can’t he?”

 

JARVIS’s reply was softer and tempered with sympathetic affection as he replied, “If Sir was firing on  _all cylinders,_ in a heartbeat, although it would hardly be necessary.   Severely sleep deprived, as well as physically and mentally exhausted,  _while not under dire pressure..._ even Sir’s genius knows limits, extreme though they may be...”

 

Steve nodded as he rounded the corner; the whole team knew that Tony could operate with an amazing forbearance for fatigue and personal jeopardy, especially if presented with sufficient cause.

 

 

_Like held captive in a dank, dirty cave...heart powered by an all too fallible car battery, surrounded by danger, stalked by death._

_And he’d walked out Ironman._

He shook the thoughts as he stopped in front of the Studio door, the opening barely visible in the wall, seamlessly closed and completely soundproof for total concentration. The Schematics Studio wasn’t somewhere Steve had been often, and the few times he had ventured to the room, Tony had been powering down and exiting.

 

With no obvious lock or handle, the room was possibly the most secure in the building, and with good reason, for within lay the original and unfolding plans and schematics of 99% of SI patents, as well as Tony’s personal creations, such as Clint’s improved Bow, and various arrow variations, the as of yet incomplete formula for a material flexible enough for both Bruce _and_ the hulk, the Asgard compatible toaster for Thor’s upcoming name-day (essentially so the Thunder God could have his pop-tarts in both realms)...not to mention, _the arc-reactor_ schematics and blueprints.

_So yes – secure._

 

_Problem- Tony inside, Steve outside._

“Uh, JARVIS, can you please let Tony know I’m here?” Steve asked as he fidgeted helplessly in the hallway.

 

JARVIS answered, “That is unlikely to be possible. Sir stopped responding sensibly to my queries approximately 4 hours ago, he’s awake, but not particularly lucid. All my scans indicate severe exhaustion as the cause of what I believe has been termed, _punch-drunk.  T_ he Schematics Studio is safe and he is in no true danger yet, dependant on his sleeping within the next 9 hours, after which his body will become ever more likely to automatically shut down into REM sleep, regardless of where he is or what he is doing, ignorant of sharp edges, mile high Ironman flights, alien invasions... ”

 

Steve bashed on the door with serum strengthened muscles, and felt the shocks reverberate up his arms. The door didn’t budge.

 

Amidst visions of Tony sprawled on the floor, blood pooling Steve all but shouted, “JARVIS! What do I do!?”

 

JARVIS answered immediately, “I am sorry to have alarmed you Captain Rogers, there is no cause for concern yet. Please place your hand on the door where a handle would usually reside, as you do in the elevator.  Sir programmed your Bio-signature to every room in the Tower.”

 

Steve slapped a palm to the door, unable to stop the sappy smile that plastered across his face at the knowledge that Tony had made sure that Steve could get to him whenever and wherever he liked.

 

The door pulsed once with the same self imbued light of the elevator, Steve recognised it as arc-reactor electric blue, but different against the shiny black rather the silver metallic casing. The door slid open and Steve swiftly entered the room. 

 

***

The Schematics Studio instantly became Steve’s favourite room in the Tower.

 

As long as Tony was in it.

 

The room itself wasn’t huge, three meters at its widest. The wall at his back, made the flat side of a modest semi-circle, the curved wall before him.   And that’s were normal and modest ended.

 

The walls, floor and ceiling were all the same deep, shiny jet black of the elevator, reflective but not to the extent of an actual mirror, colours and shapes blurry and indistinct, glowed softly across every surface.

 

Two steps into the room there was a single table, although ‘table’ was as inadequate as calling Tony ‘smart’. The same glossy black material formed the single solid leg; the table top was an inch thick slab of technology that hummed as energy lit its black casing.   

 

Its purpose was clear from the 3D light-illuminated parts and components expanding and changing in the remaining two and a half meter space in front of the table. Blue prints blown apart to show the intricacies of a single element, schematics hung suspended throughout the room, glowing a soft off-white.

 

Turned electric blue from the glow of Tony’s arc-reactor.

 

From Steve’s stationary position in the doorway, he was directly behind Tony, and less than a meter away; within fingertip distance should he stretch.   His gaze swept to the back of Tony’s head, eyeing where the dark curls were styled into strange disarray with what Steve knew to be a heavy combination of engine grease and motor oil.

 

He could almost see long fingers carding through the locks accompanied by a huff of frustration. His eyes followed a particularly dark smudge that appeared from a wild tangle and streaked down the side of Tony’s throat, curling and disappearing from view at the junction of throat and shoulder.

 

The black top was a tattered filthy mess, missing one sleeve and threadbare in places, destined for the rag bag if Steve had any say, and as late (early) as it was, as tired as Steve was (let alone Tony), as inappropriate as the timing was – it didn’t mean it wasn’t inordinately hot, pulled unusually snug across Tony’s finely muscled shoulders in compensation for the extra material stretched across the arc-reactor.

 

Steve swallowed hard as his eyes followed the outline of the shirt down, catching where a small triangle of the material had torn and was hanging by a thread at Tony’s left flank, obviously having caught on something sharp, snagged and then ripped. In the bared skin revealed below, Steve could just make out the fine line of a scratch marring the perfect skin beneath a layer of grease and grime.

 

Shaking his head Steve’s eyes dipped lower and then widened a little when he took in the unusual inch of skin revealed at the bottom of the shirt.  Unusual because Tony, as a rule, only wore the best fitting outfits, even his workout, sleep and casual items were all perfectly tailored to his size.

 

The shirt wasn’t the culprit, it wasn’t shorter, or smaller than the genius usually wore, perhaps only a little older, more worn. Comfortable and familiar.  The sweatpants however, were what drew Steve’s heated gaze.

 

Dark grey, and of a heavy material, they sat lower than Tony usually liked, much lower.

 

Leaning with his hip pressed against the computer slab, weight slouched onto his left, Tony had trapped the sweats at waist height, between his body and the table, however the other hip was completely bare, the waistband of the pants dipping to find purchase on the curve of Tony’s ass, revealing a hint of pale creamy flesh, and the apex of a darkened shadow of the crease that disappeared into the sweats.

 

Dragging his gaze lower, following the baggy material of the legs, Steve was somewhat confused until he reached Tony’s feet.  Tony did not have big feet; they weren’t tiny, just slightly below average for an adult man, which was understandable, considering that Tony was also slightly shorter than the average grown man.

 

 It was a running joke between the two of them that Tony was the exception to the rule that ‘big feet equalled...big _shoes_ ’ and Steve, who blushed and babbled and was easily excitable had been quite fascinated to discover that the unflappable Tony Stark came _unstuck,_ to varying degrees, when the soles of his feet were touched, rubbed, or tickled.

 

_Or licked, sucked and nibbled._

 

Steve grinned to find that only one bare foot was visible, the other completely engulfed in fold upon fold of excess material of the sweat pants leg. The other foot was half visible, oil slicked toes peeking out from where the material had been tucked back up on top of his foot at some stage.

 

_Tony was wearing his pants._

 The certainty sizzled across mind and Steve groaned aloud, because _that_ was _hot._

_And so not the time._

_***_

 

Steve felt his desire abruptly fizzle out when he realised that despite having his (Tony’s words) ‘excessively adorable and extremely gorgeous’ boyfriend in the room making obscene noises, the genius hadn't even seemed to notice.

 

 

Steve moved to the left and wandered forwards, footfalls deliberately loud as he approached, rounding the table to stand to the side, but in front of and facing Tony.  Who didn’t even blink.

 

Hovering in the air, about a foot in front of the table was... _something._

It was glowing a brighter blue than the rest of the rooms floating objects due to its proximity to Tony, and Steve narrowed his eyes as he considered the _thing_  that was obviously his lover’s current project.

 

It was fairly often that his 70 year culture gap or his own less than technical interests left him bamboozled at something Tony found to be second nature, but it wasn’t very often that Steve couldn’t even _glimpse_ the genius that shone on everything Tony touched.

 

This _creation_ was, without a doubt, the absolute strangest pile of junk he had ever seen, for all that the junk was holographic.

 

Tony’s hands, long fingered and fragile looking, but surprisingly strong, were a blur of motion as he twisted, pulled, pushed, slid, chose and banished components of whatever he was working on. His genius showed when he successfully fitted everything he grabbed to the invention and his sleep deprivation revealed itself when the items he grabbed had absolutely no business being where they were added.

 

The room was silent of Tony’s usually constant patter; working, sleeping, eating, _heck – sex definitely sex_...it didn’t matter, Tony was almost _never_ completely silent, and to be frank it was unnerving Steve a little, which was why he gladly latched onto the soft repetitive whir of the arc-reactor. The quiet hum was almost below human hearing, but the silence and natural acoustics of the room increased the volume to easily audible.

 

Even beneath the thin black shirt the reactor was bright enough to infuse the room with its electric blue glow, which had unashamedly becomes Steve’s favourite colour. The circle visibly pressing against the material as Tony twisted a little to slot another part to his creation. Steve wanted to reach out and touch the glow, but retrained himself this time because Tony was understandably sensitive about it. 

 

He knew Tony had a love-hate relationship with the thing that kept him alive, hated its story and its necessity, but loved its awe and power.  Steve just loved it, as he loved everything that was Tony.  Early (very early) in their relationship Tony had refused to allow Steve to see him without his shirt, which was two-fold stupid, as Steve, not to mention the whole team had seen Tony without his shirt before and also because it was stupid.

 

It just was.  

 

Tony really hadn’t liked being told that, and Steve had quickly amended with “It’s stupid because...It just is.”, and then Steve had kissed him.  And kissed him again as soon as Tony opened his mouth to argue. And again, until Tony had just looked resigned and had not opened his mouth except to kiss Steve back.

 

Steve now took every opportunity provided to touch the arc reactor gently and sometimes Tony pulled away, sometimes he leaned in, sometimes he smiled affectionately and sometimes he flinched.

 

Something told Steve if he touched the reactor right now Tony might just do more than flinch.  _Like scream._

Moving his concerned blue gaze higher he ducked a little to be able to see Tony’s down-turned face.  Pale skin shone with a strange translucent quality in the blue light, glossy with a fine sheen of sweat.  Plump bottom lip caught painfully hard between small white teeth, pink colour replaced by a bruised red that told of hours of abuse.  The same lip that Steve knew gently nibbling on would cause Tony to shudder against him, and soothingly sucking would result in Tony all but whimpering into his mouth.  He didn’t like to see it abused.

 

Liquid brown eyes, ridiculously huge, stared unblinking, blank, for long moments as Tony rotated the image of his _thing_ , then slowly blinking closed before being all but dragged back open by force of will and habit, as if they were doing everything possible to do the sensible thing and stay closed, but Tony (Steve wouldn’t _say_ Tony was lacking in sense) forcing them back open.

 

The smudge of black grease across his left cheekbone had nothing on the dark circles beneath Tony’s eyes. Black bags that made Steve beyond tired just to look at hung beneath red rimmed eyes, obviously irritated and sore.

 

Steve looked closer and saw the slumped shoulders, fatigue in every line. An aborted movement caught in the corner of his eye revealed a minute fine tremor causing an almost imperceptible trembling in slender wrists and usually sure hands.

 

Steve contemplated his best course of action; one that would, if executed correctly, hopefully result in an adequately agreeable boyfriend, amicably curled beside him in bed, and both of them finally asleep.

 

_(Rather than say – an irritated, stubborn, overly-independent and defensive Tony who spent the next however many hours arguing, refusing, miserable, guilty and upset.)_

 

***

Steve was still assessing when * _completely oblivious to Steve’s rather obvious presence*_ Tony reached for one of his five various coffee mugs, all balanced on the little ledge at the far side of the table, and in his overly exhausted clumsiness knocked two of them clear off, sending them crashing to the floor where they shattered on impact, splashing remnants of stale, nigh on undrinkable coffee across the black floor.

 

Tony just stared; he didn’t swear, shriek, scream, cry or laugh, he just stood there hand outstretched for a moment and then he turned back to his _creation_ as if he hadn’t just spilled coffee all over the multi-billion dollar Schematics Studio.

 

Steve reacted.

 

Looking up he demanded in Captain America Tone, “JARVIS , cut the power to the Schematics Table now.”

 

An instant of hesitation and the lights of the table blinked once and flickered out, all holographic images disappearing, leaving only the arc reactors soft glow to break the pitch black.

 

Tony’s hands were still outstretched, and he stared at them for an instant before finally, _finally_ twitching. He gave his head a quick little shake as he looked up, the grimace sweeping across his face indicating just how long he’d been bowed over the table.

 

“Hunnngh, wha?” was the genius’s response.

 

Steve stepped around the table and saw Tony catch the movement, blink and then sway alarmingly. He reached out, slowly, not sure how alert his boyfriend actually was and placed large steadying hands on bowed shoulders.

 

They stood like that, face to face, Steve bracing Tony, for a moment longer and then Tony blinked again and sighed, “Seeve......”

 

Steve cracked a grin as the floodgates opened.

 

Tony just stood stock still, although that was Steve’s doing, he’d still be swaying if not for the super soldiers grip.

 

But he _babbled._

_“Seeve... T, T drink - no.....‘T in there some...Teeve? no.... You’re back!   Steve!  I did, and then when. Stairs....stars, Right?”_

Steve smiled and nodded as Tony threw a look of such adulation at him that he could feel the heat of the blush rising up his cheeks.

 

Tony apparently noticed too.

 

“.... _cute, like very.  Hot....smiling, that's hot too.  Bottle it I'd be a billion- already a billionaire.  Mine......smiling again...only at me..._ ”

 

Steve felt the blush magnify and bloom across his face, but Tony was right, _he was smiling, and only at Tony._

He tugged towards the door, intent on dragging his sleep deprived, adorably babbly boyfriend to bed when Tony stumbled and Steve had to lunge back to catch him before he had a miserable introduction to the floor.

 

His left arm caught Tony across the upper chest, cradling his shoulders and his right hand caught a fistful of fabric and Tony stopped his face plant descent, dangling from Steve’s grip loosely.  Valiantly ignored the tantalising view that his grip on the seat of the sweats had revealed, Steve easily pulled Tony upright, (there may have been one or two _nearly_ accidental caresses) changed his grip, one arm at Tony's back and swept the other behind his knees, easily swinging the smaller figure completely into his arms.

 

He wasn’t 100% sure whether Tony’s knees had buckled from fatigue or if he had become entangled in the too big sweat pants, but short of stripping his boyfriend from the waist down ( _No, brain, well...no._ ) he had no way to be sure and besides, he really liked the comfortable weight of Tony in his arms, it wasn’t something he got to just enjoy all that often.

 

 

Steve exited the Studio and headed back along the hall, careful of his precious burden’s head as they entered the elevator a moment later.  JARVIS immediately began their upwards decent, but with over 100 floors to traverse there was a few moments delay, even with the fastest technology.

 

Steve looked down at his warm armful, and was half surprised to see Tony’s gorgeous brown eyes staring up at him. Usually, when he had cause to hold Tony like this (and the genius wasn’t unconscious) Tony would wrap his arms around Steve’s neck and lift some of his own weight, as if afraid he would fall should Steve let go. His face would then tuck into the junction of Steve’s throat and shoulder and play havoc with Steve’s libido by fluttering eyelashes and puffs of warm breath ghosting across his skin.

 

Steve enjoyed the closeness, liked Tony’s arms around his neck, and enjoyed the little touches of Tony’s face (god help him), but looking down at _this_ Tony, who just _rested,_ body completely under Steve’s strength and control, and then Tony brought his arms up to tuck against his chest and he actually _moved_ in Steve’s arms, curling into his boyfriend's chest, a soft smile as he pressed his swollen lips to Steve’s hot skin. Completely and utterly unafraid, completely trusting that Steve had him.

 

Steve squeezed tighter, until Tony mewed softly and then the blond relaxed slightly, knowing he would _never_ let Tony fall.

 

***

Entering his and Tony’s room Steve moved towards the bed, intent on gently depositing his charge when a thought occurred to him. ' _The sheets are white. Tony, and now myself, are not.'_

“Clean first, then bed” he said aloud, but mostly to himself as Tony seemed highly intent on tracing (torturing) patterns onto Steve’s white shirt with light touches of his grease covered fingertips.

 

Their adjoining bathroom was massive, the shower easily large enough to stand 6 people...or sit one Captain America and one Ironman.  There was a mirror the entire length of the far wall that Steve admitted to enjoying whenever he _joined_ Tony in the shower, a set of large twin sinks, one with all assortment of hair and skin products and the other baring just the basic old fashioned shaving kit, toothbrush and soap.

 

There was no bathtub...although Steve could see were there had been room for one previously. The renovation job was immaculate, and only the gaping empty space it the corner belied that there had ever been a hot tub, but Steve knew.

 

They had never actually spoken about Tony’s phobia of being fully submersed in still water, but Steve had garnered enough from his file, Natasha and Tony’s nightmares to have gotten the gist of the reasoning and he could barely even think the word without wanting to murder someone.

 

_Torture.  Waterboarding._

 

When the rest of the team had moved in, there hadn’t been one bathtub, hot tub or swimming pool on the property, but a month after Natasha had miraculously come back from a particularly difficult mission they had returned home from some weekend event or another to have Natasha rush into the living room an hour later in a bathrobe and all but fling herself at Tony.

 

He’d been obviously terrified of the Black Widow for an instant and then realised he had a lapful of _squealing, smiling, laughing Tasha_ and had smiled at her gushing thanks and hugged back.  Natasha had spent the next 4 hours soaking in her new marble claw foot tub. Tony had spent the next four hours blushing whenever the others praised his thoughtfulness.

 

Steve knew that many of the others had borrowed Tasha’s tub at various points, including one memorable evening when Clint and Phil had slipped out together and run into Bruce. But Steve had never used it, the thought of Tony, terrified and screaming bubbles was enough to turn him off tubs and pools as well and he was more than satisfied with their giant shower.

 

Steve stepped further into the bathroom and smiled as the bright light flicked on and Tony groaned softly, blinking. Steve looked around the bathroom for an instant longer before shrugging. He’d contemplated trying to get Tony to stand while he stripped them both off, but the completely boneless way his lover was slumped in his arms warned him from that idea and instead he moved over to the sinks and carefully lowered Tony to sit on the edge of the nearest one.  

 

Tony snuffled sleepily as he was disturbed, but brown eyes showed he wasn’t asleep yet, although how, Steve wasn’t sure. He wanted to sleep a week just looking at Tony.  He looped the shorter arms around his neck and tugged and nudged until he felt them clasp together behind his neck and then he tentatively slid his hands to rest at Tony’s waist, glad when the genius held on.

 

Looking at the arms hooked securely about his neck and the black t-shirt, Steve shrugged and placed both hands on the front of the V neck and tugged hard.  The material ripped through easily, cleanly splitting straight down the middle, revealing the pale, grimy chest and stomach and the glowing reactor.    Two more quick tugs made quick work of the sleeves and he was able to slip the shirt backwards, tossing it to the floor in a far corner.

 

Tony snorted abruptly and looked down at his chest, as if just realising what Steve had done. He looked up after a moment to catch Steve’s waiting expression and huffed, rolling his eyes before slumping forwards to rest against the conveniently placed chest, somehow finding the energy and sanity to mutter “ _Barbarian_ ” against Steve’s shirt.

 

Steve snorted in amusement and dropped a kiss to Tony’s forehead, leaving him leaning securely against his chest as the blond used the strength of one arm to easily tug the sweat pants down and off.

 

_Got Tony naked._

_Next Problem?_

_Getting Steve naked._

 

The pants, underwear and socks were easy enough, undoing the belt and shucking with Tony leaning against him. There had been a moment when Tony had listed to one side, but Steve had been quick to right him.   The shirt was...proving difficult. 

 

And he really didn’t want to rip this one; it was pretty much brand new.

 

Steve sighed as his twelfth attempt to balance Tony with one hand and pull the shirt over his head with his other was aborted when Tony wavered drunkenly. At the frustrated noise Tony’s eyes came up, wide and questioning with the exhausted, fatigued version of _‘Steve upset...Tony help’_ \- namely huge brown eyes blinking up at him with complete and utter love.

 

Steve immediately smiled and leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to warm lips, careful not to press too hard.  He pulled back and planted a kiss on the tip of Tony’s nose, snorting when Tony’s eyes crossed adorably to follow, “Oh, Tony, what on earth am I going to do with you?” he laughingly asked.

 

Tony shrugged before suddenly slumping backwards. Steve managed to get his hand between the back of Tony’s head and the wall in time to cushion the blow, but his heart still jumped with worry as he leaned forward and kissed him again, adding emphatically, “Don’t do that again, yes?”

 

Tony blinked at him non-plussed and Steve was once again pressed back into amused affection...god Tony was adorable when seriously sleep deprived.

And...huh!   “Well, I guess you solved that problem.” Steve added as he realised that he was no longer supporting Tony.  The genius was sitting in the deep sink,  luckily not encumbered by something as old fashioned as taps, instead using ‘seep’ technology that filled and drained from the bottom of the basin.  

 

Gently removing his hand from behind Tony’s head, Steve quickly stripped his shirt off before he stepped back up to the sink. Tony’s knees and shins rested against Steve’s abdomen as he leaned forward, an arm bracketing his boyfriend on each side, leaning over Tony’s supine form, grinning when Tony lolled his head to the side to follow his movements.

 

“Come on then, shower.....” the blond said as he pulled Tony from the sink and forward to rest against his chest again, the slighter mans feet dangled a good few inches from the ground. Tony keened suddenly and wrapped his arms around Steve, trying to burrow closer and Steve noticed that he’d started to shiver, as if the genius’s sleep deprived brain had just realised he was cold when he came into contact with Steve’s warmer torso.

 

Steve obligingly wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist tighter and said aloud, “JARVIS can you up the temperature a little?”, it wasn’t actually cold in the environmentally controlled tower, but Tony obviously thought he was cold and was uncomfortable and that was all that mattered to Steve.

 

He carried the dangling Tony into the stall and turned so his body was sheltering the smaller man when the warm spray automatically engaged, engulfing them with just the right temperature and pressure.  Despite the water hitting Steve’s shoulders and back first and then dripping around and onto Tony, his breathing still hitched when the first spray of water touched him. Steve murmured “Shh, It’s just me...” and pressed a gentle kiss to his temple and he settled quickly.

 

Steve manoeuvred the two of them around in the shower, always holding Tony safely upright, turning him in his arms to lean forwards against Steve’s chest and let water cascade over his filthy hair and down his back and then turning his smaller form again and aiming the nozzle to spray from the neck down, until they were both thoroughly wet from head to toe.

 

And then came the difficult part – scrubbing.

 

In the end he just eased them both to sitting on the floor, facing the door with Tony’s back resting against his chest, head lolling back on one strong shoulder, face tipped left against Steve’s throat to hide from the gentle but bothersome spray and the bright annoying light.

 

Steve lathered up a sponge with the grease solvent liquid soap and crossing above the arc reactor with his arm he settled it against Tony’s left shoulder and began a slow measured pattern, swipe after swipe, washing away every trace of grease and grime until all he could see as the water washed the suds away was creamy pale skin. He moved lower, to the left of the arc reactor and just above the small brown nipple, repeating the same careful pattern until clean skin was revealed.

He followed his own map, swapping hands and doing the same on the other side of Tony’s chest, and then the hollow of his throat and directly above the arc reactor.  He hesitated, and then moved below and to the right of the reactor, gently cleansing the skin, coming close enough to wash the scars, but not touch the metal itself and then did the same on the left.

 

He contemplated the clear covering over the glowing blue ring and most notably, the sizable grease smear marring the glass but ignored it, not want to panic his utterly relaxed love. Tony wasn’t asleep, at least Steve didn’t think he was _fully_ asleep, dozing perhaps, but still awake in a way that should have been all but impossible after 60+ of no sleep...and stranger still, Steve could tell that Tony was 100% completely and utterly tension-free, which _never_ happened; and Steve didn’t want to ruin it, which he thought mixing water, the arc –reactor and touch would almost definitely do.

 

He leant back a little, changing the angle of their bodies so he could see to wash Tony’s stomach, and running the re-lathered sponge repeatedly across the width of Tony’s firm abdominal muscles, once clean he moved to do the strip lower and then again below that until he entered into the sensitive region of the tummy that started at the waist level and exited lower, to the groin.

 

Steve knew he could have Tony writhing on the bed by gently scraping his fingernails across this responsive area. Knew that he could get Tony off with just his tongue and a stamp sized area of skin two inches below his belly-button. Knew that and ice cube and a warm breath on this area could reduce Tony to tear streaming, choking desire.

 

Knew all this.

 

And also knew to apply just a little more pressure than normal to limit the sensitivity. Knew to only use the sponge and not his hand to avoid arousing his languid partner. Knew to squeeze Tony’s hand and bring it to his lips when he whined softly into Steve’s skin at the unavoidable curling of that first wisp of desire he was much too tired to appreciate.

 

He moved onto the top of Tony’s right thigh, lavishing soap and attention to the skin that had been barred by the too large pants and thoroughly greased and dirtied because of it.  He repeated the less needed action on the right and made a note of 6 tiny little pitted burns, most likely from JARVIS's earlier statement of the welding incident.  Steve leaned forward just a little, without jostling his lapful of Tony to gently grab and lift the right leg resting between his own.  Using the smaller man’s boneless elasticity, natural suppleness and yoga induced flexibility; he pulled Tony’s leg close enough that he could swipe from thigh to ankle in one go, this only necessary once, having been protected by the thick sweatpants from the majority of the grime.

 

He added more soap and then generously lathered up the foot that rested in his palm, earning himself a snigger and a huff of breath despite his care to not tickle as he washed between the five small toes and scrubbed the absolutely black with filth curve that was the sole of Tony’s foot.  He repeated his actions with the left leg until they matched and two pink feet and 10 pink toes gleamed at him.

 

He scooted back on his butt a little; easy against the soap slicked floor, until he could lean back against the warmed wall, easy his and Tony’s combined weight from his muscles.

The sponge was cleaned thoroughly and squeezed repeatedly before being soaped back up and Steve brought Tony’s right arm from where it rested against the floor at their sides into his sight and washed from shoulder to wrist, cleaning away the well spread grease and oil as he went.

 

He set the still soapy sponge on his thigh and brought Tony’s hand closer. He rubbed his own fingers over the sponge and scooped up some of the glistening purple suds in his own palm before moving to gently wash Tony’s hand.  He moved lightly, knowing that the slightest application of too much pressure from his super serum enhanced strength could easily snap the tiny delicate bones that he could feel in Tony’s hand.   Running his soaping fingers over the supple skin and then easing his larger fingers between Tony’s he carefully washed away the lingering grease and dirt, paying special attention to the short fingernails and the black embedded beneath them.

 

It was a process of many minutes but eventually every trace of dark was gone and only pale skin remained. Rinsing away the remaining suds under the cascade of warm water, Steve began to gently rub instead of wash, rolling slightly swollen knuckles between his fingers and thumbing a tightly knotted muscle at the join of thumb and index finger.  Massaging away the cramps and pain that built up from hours, days...a life time of fiddling, fixing, creating...all enabled by this small hand and another one just like it.  Had Tony been, not 60+ hours sleep deprived, he never would have allowed Steve the indulgence of this little massage, stating that it was a stupid waste of his time (Steve's or Tony's - he had no idea), but while Tony was soft and drowsy in his arms Steve indulged a little.

 

And he could feel the soft smile on Tony’s lips.

 

He carefully held Tony’s hand in the full light and closely inspected the pink flesh; looking for anywhere that the skin had broken, blistered or been nicked or scraped. Satisfied that his lover hadn’t added to the myriad of tiny little scars that marred his skin he placed Tony’s hand down gently against his chest and reached for the other, grinning and turning to nose Tony’s hair when he realised that the left hand was half tucked under Steve’s thigh.

 

Freeing the fingertips from their self imposed trap, Steve lathered and washed Tony’s arm, using the same slow strokes as before.  He then  placed the sponge down, once again using his own fingers instead, to clean away the dirt from the hand itself. Once clean he repeated his little massage, focussing on the heated knuckles and then searching for knots of muscle formed under the skin. His fingers rubbed away slowly at an unusually large and deep-set knot  in Tony’s palm, in the thicker flesh at the base of his thumb.

 

Steve could feel the knot starting to loosen beneath his own thumb, when Tony gave a gasping whimper and pulled away weakly. Obviously having touched on a particularly sore nerve, Steve slowed and lightened his rubbing for a minute, although he didn’t stop. He knew some nights, after days of hard, extended hands on work, his lover got excruciating cramps in his hands that he refused to even aknowledge. The few times Steve had attempted to do exactly as he was now, Tony had pulled away, denying his ‘weakness’. Steve had given up on the massages, but he did try to hold Tony’s hand if he knew he was in pain, hoping that if the heat and gentle pressure didn’t help, than his mere presence might.

 

But he wasn’t going to pull away now and Steve finished his massage, gently coaxing the painful knot free until Tony sagged in relief against him and Steve almost regretted the build up of tension in his previously adorably lethargic lover, until Tony kissed his collar bone and murmured a garbled “Thank-you” which Steve only understood because he’d give a caffeine deprive Tony coffee. The small hand that clutched at his right leg didn’t hurt the reassurances either and he kissed Tony’s forehead again and began his careful inspection, pleased to note only one tiny, ‘barely scratched the surface’ new nick in the soft skin.

 

Steve rinsed out the sponge again and decided to do the next area while Tony was already a little unsettled rather than wait until he, hopefully, relaxed again and then perhaps upsetting him again.  He pulled Tony’s left leg over his own left and Tony’s right over his own right and then lifted and parted his knees a little; spreading Tony’s thighs wide and allowed him to do a quick and proficient wash and rinse of his lovers groin area, and gently use the extra reach of his long arms and Tony’s curled position on his lap to wash the softly rounded flesh of his backside and run a soft swipe down between his cheeks. Not impersonal because he could never be impersonal where Tony was concerned and not uninterested because he could never be uninterested where Tony was concerned, but just completely loved and nothing else.

 

He settled flat again and looked up at Tony’s face, surprised to see sleepy brown eyes apparently a little more aware of his surrounding as he seemed to be contemplating thinking about maybe trying to pull the energy together to sit up. It was what Steve was moving towards next anyway, so he gently assisted his drained lover upright, supporting he limp body as he started to slump forward, grinning when he noticed that Tony’s eyes were drooping to half mast again as he watched.  

 

Between them, meaning mostly Steve, with well intended hindrance from Tony, they managed to turn the smaller man around so he was straddling the captain’s lap, hands splayed against Steve’s chest to keep himself upright. Steve waited for weary brown eyes that were looking to the floor to be raised slowly to meet his and then Tony spoke.

 

“I- I missed you. R _eally_ missed you.” He held Steve’s eyes for a moment more and then slumped like his strings had been cut, curling against Steve’s chest, face turned away from Steve’s gaze.

 

Steve heard everything Tony _didn’t_ say –‘ _I’m sorry’...’I’m an idiot’...’I love you’_...and most importantly, _‘I need you’._

Steve forced Tony back upright, smiling inwardly at the blush that touched his publicly self-assured, but actually very insecure lover's cheeks, as his brown eyes looked anywhere but at blue.   Steve captured his chin and tugged gently until Tony inevitably gave in and looked into his eyes and Steve made sure he only saw the most obvious truth.

 

‘ _You are an idiot - but you're MY idiot - and I love you.'_

 

Steve leaned in and pressed a strangely heated, yet chaste kiss against Tony’s lips and then sat back to watch as Tony got pinker and his eyes closed, lashes fluttering against darkl  sleep-bruised eyes.  Beautiful.

 

He raised his knees to form a backrest behind Tony and pulled the man lower, curving him into his lap more until his legs spread out beneath Steve’s arms and his head flopped backwards to rest on top of the upturned knees.

 

Steve ran his hand comfortingly down Tony’s side as he reached for the soap and a conditioning shampoo on the shelf above his head. He spoke as he fumbled, “Keep your eyes closed sweetheart, I’m going to attempt to wash this birds nest you're passing off as hair...".

 

The way they were scrunched together should have been uncomfortable, but it truly wasn’t. Steve could easily reach all of Tony’s hair and could see that no soap got in his eyes.  He lathered up using the soap first, scrubbing thoroughly to get rid of the majority of the build up of grease and oil and then repeated with the soap a second time just to be sure. One hand covered closed eyes and pushed suds back towards Tony's hairline whenever they attempted to creep down his face and the other rinsed the soap out with the detachable shower head until the water ran clean.

 

Running the palm of his hands backwards following the hair growth direction, Steve squeezed the excess water out and then dolloped a generous handful of the conditioner on the damp waves and gently began rubbing it in. He flexed his hands and spread his fingers to encompass the majority of Tony scalp and began to massage with gentle pressure, thumbs moving between slow circles at Tony’s temples and rubbing down behind his ears and across the back of his neck.

 

Steve continued for another 10 minutes, inordinately delighted when Tony melted against him with a sappy relaxed smile on his face two minutes in. He slowed the massage to a stop and rinsed the conditioner out. He then grabbed the sponge  again and wet it with mostly water and only a hint of soap, breathing, “Eyes closed, baby..” as a mostly uneeded reminder, before he washed the streak of grease from Tony ‘s cheek and then gently passed the soaked sponge across the rest of his face, careful over bruised lips and sore eyelids. He replaced the sponge with Tony’s modified electric razor and in seconds had neatened the three day stubble back to its usual styled appearance. A further gentle wash with the sponge revealed an extremely tired but very clean face.

 

Steve moved to put the sponge down and before easeing Tony upright so he could get at his back, when the genius surprised him again by loosely staying his wrist and looking downward,  blinking slowly as he murmured, “Missed a spot....” before his eyes slipped shut again.

 

Steve looked at the sponge, at Tony’s face and then at Tony’s chest and the glaring black streak on the Arc reactor, and hardly daring to breath he very lightly polished the clear surface until only blue remained. 

 

Steve smiled at his lover’s smile and squeezed the closet thigh as he pulled Tony upright, he noticed the slight tremor and stiffening of the relaxed body, but marvelled at the trust shown.

 

He was shaken out of his musings and had to grin when he heard a  pure Tony grumble at being moved, although Steve had no idea what he’d actually said, the smaller man much too gone again under the influence of too little sleep to make much sense.  The grumble was replaced with a hum of contentedness though when Steve pulled him close and wrapped his arms around the slim waist for a moment, satisfied just to be held.

 

The sponge found his hand again moments later and Steve gently wiped down the mostly clean back, although he did have to wonder how Tony ended up with a greasy hand print against his shoulder blade. He’d wonder, but not only did he trust Tony explicitly , but he’d also bet his shield that the print would match Tony’s own left hand.

 

He also paid special attention to the small line of torn flesh at Tony’s side, pleased to note that it was not deep and didn’t seem to have bled very much. He’d still cleaned it carefully, not wanting to chance an infection because dirt or oil stayed in the wound.

 

Once he was satisfied that Tony was completely clean from head to toe Steve ran the sponge over what he could reach of himself, not overly concerned because he wasn’t actually that grimy to start with.  He then dropped the sponge and gently rubbed, caressing his hands slowly up and down the leanly muscled back, carefully counting the ridges of Tony's spine, and feeling the slightly too prominent ribs and silently promising to fix that. He didn't massage, because although Tony no doubt needed a back massage, Steve couldn't give him the attention he needed in a few minutes in the shower and besides, he wanted Tony amicable and pliant, not pained, defensive and ashamed.

 

And although his few minutes turned into almost half an hour, he was content to just sit there and hold his drowsily relaxed lover as the never ending supply of warm water sprayed over them.

***

Eventually Steve noticed that they were starting to prune and he pulled them both to their feet, surprised when Tony automatically latched his arms around Steve’s neck so he could stay cradled against the warm chest. Unwilling to deny his lover anything, especially not something so simple, Steve shuffled them out of the shower and onto the huge floor mat, reaching for the fluffy wine red towel behind him, and pulled it around Tony’s shoulders.

 

He wrapped his left arm around Tony’s waist and used the other to rub up and down the towel covered back to help it absorb the drops of water that glistened on the pale skin. The blond then did his best to lean back and get the towel wrapped around Tony’s front, but the smaller form had latched on with the strength of desperation and Steve couldn’t make him (self) let go.

 

Using his free hand he pulled the sky blue towel from the rack as well and dropped it gently over Tony’s head, tussling lightly as the new material (Tony’s invention) soaked up the moisture faster than Steve could move the cloth. Eventually he draped the blue towel over his own shoulders and went to move towards the bedroom when he realised that Tony was no longer supporting his own weight and Steve’s arm at his waist was all that was keeping him from curling to the bathroom floor.  But brown slits still said he wasn’t properly asleep.

 

Steve just shrugged, pressed a kiss to the soft, sweet smelling hair and lifted Tony completely from the ground, hoisting him higher until an arm rested at his lower back and the other beneath his knees. Tony’s own gip tightened as his clasped hands moved from just behind Steve’s neck to halfway down his back, and he was now able to press his face to Steve’s throat instead of his chest and Tony snuffled softly as he murmured nonsense (or the meaning of life) against Steve’s skin.

***

 

Bedecked in their towels, Steve carried Tony through the large apartment room and to the bed, bending over to deposit Tony only to find that he wouldn’t let go.  Tony lay down easily enough, even sighing at the soft mattress and blankets, but whenever Steve tried to stand back up, he’d end up bringing Tony half way back up with him.

 

Despite the no doubt ridiculous spectacle they were making right then, Steve could only grin and look down at Tony hanging off his neck, still doing his best to press his face against the warm skin.

 

And wearing the cutest scowling pout Steve had ever seen.  He made a note that he _had_ to draw that expression tomorrow....maybe he'd be able to get Tony to model it.

It took Steve 4 minutes and 48 seconds as well as 14 versions of ‘ _I love you, I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here, but I really need to pee..._ ’ to get Tony to very reluctantly let go and relax back into the bed.

 

Steve quickly dried off Tony’s still slick front and then his own before rescuing and returning both towels to the bathroom and fetching a tube of antibiotic gel, a glass of water and two Advil, knowing that Tony would register the massive headache he no doubt had just as soon as he’s had enough sleep to register anything.

Siding one hand under Tony's shoulders, Steve easily pulled his half-dozing lover upright(ish), and personally put the tablets in Tony’s mouth. Not trusting the water to actually make it from cup to mouth, Steve kept a firm grasp on the glass as Tony wavered all over the bed. He tilted the glass steadily, chuckling when Tony wrapped the fingers of both hands around his wrist and took deep gulping mouthfuls of half air/half water and sploshed the water in the glass until it was all gone. While peering through the bubbled glass at him with huge brown eyes.

He was beyond adorable.

The blond managed to dot the antibiotic gel on the little burns at the top of Tony's thigh and even got a little on the tip of his ring finger where the small nick had marred the skn, but had a little more trouble getting Tony to flip so he could put some on the shallow cut on his back. In the end Steve just physically turned Tony over and held him with a hand to the small of his back as he quickly applied the gel.

A gentle slap to the rounded backside and Tony flopped back over, face adorned with his scowling pout again, which Steve found he could in fact, kiss away, with enough effort.

Steve finally managed to settle Tony on his back and pulled the blankets up around his waist, carding long fingers through soft hair until his lovers breathing evened out and Steve was sure he had all but dropped off. 

 

The blond got to his feet, locked their door, looked at the clock (5:47am) and made a note that basically said – DISTURB UNDER LIFE THREATENING CIRCUMSTANCES ONLY-  and then sent a variation to each team mates communicator and then stuck one on the door for good measure.

 

Then he finally got to use the toilet.

 

He switched off all the lights as he wandered back to the bed, even knowing that JARVIS could do it in an instant if asked. He slipped under the covers and stretched out on his left side, facing towards Tony’s side of the bed. Despite having been pretty much certain that Tony was completely and utterly dead to the world he wasn’t actually that surprised when a warm length was immidiately plastered along his front, from chest to ankle.

 

Steve lay still, he could feel Tony’s lips moving against his shoulder, but wasn’t able to hear what he was saying. The captain had assumed that it was overtiredness and pure stubborn pigheadedness that were keeping Tony awake when he should have fallen asleep hours ago, as relaxed as he had been. Except now he’d begun to wonder if Tony had been obsessing over something, and if that was whatever was making it so he wouldn't meet Steve’s eyes.

 

Steve threaded a hand through already tangling hair and use it to gently turn Tony’s face away from his chest and up to meet his eyes.  He could feel the reluctance in the forced move, finally though (only finally because he wouldn’t _ever_ hurt Tony) he had his blue on Tony’s brown and he could see that Tony was fighting to get the words out, not awake enough to even attempt one of his maddening games of avoidance.

 

He was still mumbling, but without the barrier of one very dense chest, Steve could actually make out the majority of the words, “ _Do you...Don’t....Promise...._ ” and then finally, slightly clearer, “How - how mad are you with me?”

 

Steve heard, ‘ _Do you still love me_ ’.... ‘ _Don’t leave me_... ‘ _Promise you won’t...give up._ ’

And he answered, “Not mad at you. I’m.... _disappointed,_ in you”,

 

The blush of shame stole across Tony’s cheeks as he groaned softly, “ _No._ I’d rather you were mad...”, he ended on pretty much a whimper and tried to turn back into Steve’s chest, but Steve still had his hand in his hair and he held Tony still.

 

Brushing a thumb across heated skin, Steve replied, “Well, how about, I’m not mad at you, I’m... _disappointed,_ in you....” he gazed down at the man he loved and finished, “.....and, I love you more than ever.”

 

Tony, _awake Tony,_ would have replied with an ‘ _Of course you do_ ’ or ‘ _Who wouldn’t_ ’....but this Tony, this sleep deprived, adorably sweet and endearing needy Tony, just blushed brighter and replied in kind with, “ _Me too..._ ”

 

Steve smiled and just kissed Tony’s lips, plump and purplish in the blue light of the arc reactor and then wrapped his right arm across Tony’s waist, pressing another kiss to the pretty much dry hair. He chuckled softly when Tony snuggled back into his chest and Steve could feel the heat of his blush as he snuffled closer.

 

He loved every Tony he got to meet; _Tony Stark,_ _Ironman, Tony..._ but this new overtly soft Tony was darling and Steve was kind of sad that he would only get to come out when Tony half wrecked himself. Usually Tony was confident and wore his masks high, but this Tony actually _admitted_  to needing Steve, if only with his body language.   Steve knew he'd miss this version when he was gone, in the same way he missed all the other Tony’s when they were hidden, and not the mask being worn at the time.  He had decided to just enjoy the Tony he was with and love the others the way _they_ needed,  _whenever_ he saw them.

 

He was running a gentle hand through Tony’s hair, trying to help him ease into sleep when it occurred to him that he’d left his bag and his boots in the elevator. He was naturally tidy, naturally respectful of other people’s space, respectful of his belongings and grateful for a nice home. _But he had no intention of going to get_ _a bag or some boots - not while he had this Tony, or any other -  in his arms._

 

He startled a little when Tony’s cool foot suddenly slipped between his calves and expertly hooked Steve’s upper leg so it was thrown across Tony’s thighs. He was wondering at his lovers impeccable timing, when he realised he was now pinning the smaller man to the bed with about a quarter of his weight.

 

Normally they slept like this, but with only Steve’s arm thrown across Tony’s waist. Or they'd sleep front to back – he the ‘big spoon’ and Tony the ‘little spoon’. He still had nightmares about the one time he’d collapsed fully on Tony after sex, only to realise a few seconds later that Tony had barely able to breathe with the weight on his arc-reactor housing chest, let alone throw him off. 

 

It had only been seconds and Tony had laughed it off and later, even admitted that it had actually turned him on a little, but Steve had never gotten over his own objective horror at what he felt was a potential way to easily kill the one he loved.

 

The dark thoughts that ran through his mind brought tension to his body and Tony obviously wasn’t as far gone as he had thought, or else the genius had untapped reserves because he gripped Steve’s hand and squeezed reassuringly even as he snuffled sleepily, trying to all but crawl further under Steve’s arm.

 

Steve smiled despite himself, because his lover... _adorable._ But he tried to explain, “Tony...I don’t want hurt you.”

 

Tony actually growled in his throat, a tiny little rumbling noise that had Steve almost choking on amused affection but Tony lifting his arm robbed him of his speech.

 

Two hands had wrapped around his wrist again, and Steve resisted as Tony tugged his arm futilely, until the blond finally gave in and allowed him to move it. Tony brought it up to his mouth and pressed a wet kiss to his palm before he breathed, “ _Won’t, hurt._ ” and then he'd dragged Steve’s hand back down, except that he hadn't, because it was hovering over the arc reactor and Steve could see his liquid brown eyes, full of ... _everything,_ and then Steve couldn't see them anymore, but it was okay because his hand was covering the _arc reactor_ and _Tony put it there._

_***_

**Author's Note:**

> I’d love to know what people thought of my first attempt at avengers fic...and whether you'd be interested in more of this series (yes - this is one of...5, at the moment).
> 
> Also – I use no beta. I did my best, but if you notice anything you feel like pointing out, I’d be very grateful for your assistance in making this story better.
> 
> 05/08 - small formatting, spelling and content edit  
> 30/09 - Tiny content edit


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